Lost Girl
by Lil black dog
Summary: This takes place right after 'Homecoming' and serves as a sequel to that episode. David befriends a young runaway and promises to help her get home. An avalanche in the Utah Mountains throws a wrench into those plans, however. Can the Hulk help to make the girl's dream of seeing her family again come true, or will McGee finally catch his quarry? David Banner, Jack McGee, OC.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This takes place right after 'Homecoming' and serves as a sequel to that episode. David befriends a young runaway and promises to help her get home. An avalanche in the Utah Mountains throws a wrench into those plans, however. Can the Hulk help to make the girl's dream of seeing her family again come true, or will McGee finally catch his quarry? David Banner, Jack McGee, OC.

This is complete - six chapters and an epilogue in all. I'll be posting a chapter a day until it's up.

 **Lost Girl**

 **Chapter One**

It had been just over two weeks since he'd been home, the thought of spending yet another Thanksgiving alone, away from what remained of his family, unbearable. He had arrived in Treverton, Colorado a few days before the holiday but, as usual, an appearance by the creature—two, in fact—had forced him to leave before he was able to enjoy dinner with his father and younger sister.

As of now he'd put over 300 miles between them. He'd been lucky enough to hitch a ride with a trucker traveling west on Interstate 70 and was now in Salina, Utah. Current source of income was in the form of a busboy at a local greasy spoon that catered to truckers. He'd yet to figure out where the next location might be that could offer him access to employment and equipment which could perhaps provide an answer to his "unique" medical condition, but right now he needed work—any work—if he wanted to eat. So far, he'd been at this for ten days, his intention being to save up some money and plan his next move, hopefully before an appearance by the creature forced him to leave prematurely.

Presently he was holed up in a fleabag motel that offered weekly rates for long-term lodgers. It wasn't much—everything in one room—but it did have a fully-stocked kitchenette.

Strains of 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen' blared from an ancient radio, his only source of entertainment as he stood over the small stove, preparing a meager dinner, the contents purchased from what remained of his first paycheck after settling up with his landlord. Christmas was in a few weeks, yet another holiday he'd be spending alone, away from those people he held most dear. The song brought back a flood of memories of Christmases with his family:

" _I love it, Mommy, it's just what I wanted," five-year-old Helen squealed, clutching the doll to her chest. "Looky, David," she announced, holding her prize out to her seven-year-old brother. "Isn't she pretty?"_

 _He had sniffed in response. Dolls weren't really his thing. "If you say so, Helen."_

" _Well, I do. She's the mostest prettiest dolly in the whole wide world. Just don't wreck her like you did my other dolly," she admonished. Helen stuck her tongue out at her brother, jumped to her feet and climbed into her mother's lap. Elizabeth Banner was seated on the sofa next to her husband._

" _Here, open mine next, son. I bought it just for you." His father fished a gift out from under the tree. David took the brightly wrapped package from his father, the box much heavier than he expected._ Maybe it's that microscope I've been wanting, _he thought to himself as he tore through the paper. The sight that met his eyes left him feeling deflated, disappointed. The image on the box revealed what was contained within._

" _It's just like mine," his father beamed, "And in a few years I'll start teaching you how to drive it."_

 _David wrestled a green and yellow steel model of a John Deere tractor out of the thick cardboard. He turned it over and over in his hands. "It's very nice, thanks Dad," he commented without enthusiasm._

" _What's the matter? Don't you like it?" D.W. Banner barked, instantly incensed._

"' _Course I do," David stammered in reply, not meeting his father's eyes. "It's real neat." D.W. harrumphed at that, unconvinced. "I just thought it was something else is all," David whispered finally, more to himself than anything, absently spinning a rubber tire._

" _Here, David, open mine," his mother interjected, trying to keep the situation from devolving into a shouting match between father and son, as they so often did. D.W. was a farmer through and through, the last in a long line of Banners who had worked this unassuming patch of land in Colorado since the Civil War. It frustrated and irritated him no end that his only son, even at this age, wanted nothing to do with the family business, had no intention of carrying on the Banner tradition._

 _D.W. sat back against the cushions, arms crossed belligerently across his chest, a disapproving scowl marring his features._

 _After casting a surreptitious glance at his father, David took the gift from her hands, his hopes dashed yet again. It wasn't heavy enough to be the microscope, either. In fact, whatever it was felt soft and squishy, even through the thin layer of paper. Sighing to himself he peeled back a corner, the disappointment changing instantly to delight as he ripped off the remainder of the wrapping paper, adorned with tiny snowmen wearing top hats and red scarves. Inside was a worn black medical bag, not a toy but one made of genuine leather. He opened it to find it contained a real stethoscope and Taylor reflex hammer, as well as some bandaging material._

" _I got it from old Doc Benson," she explained. "It's seen better days, but the items still work and he said he was pleased to pass it and them on to an up-and-coming physician. I wanted you to have real doctor's equipment, not just toys." The pride she felt for her son danced across her face like sunlight shimmering on gently rippling water._

 _He couldn't contain his exuberance, flinging himself into his mother's arms, the microscope instantly forgotten. "Thanks, Mom, it's perfect!" he crowed, now slipping the earpieces into his ears. Reverently he placed the diaphragm against his mother's chest and was instantly rewarded with the steady, strong tattoo of her heartbeat. He looked up at her, a wide grin splitting his features. She responded with a hearty chuckle and a warm hug._

" _You're very welcome. You'll make a great doctor, someday," she said, her cheek resting against his hair._

A scream outside his window snapped him back to the present. "Let me go! I've had enough. Stay if you want to but I'm going home and you can't stop me!" This was followed by another scream and the sounds of a scuffle. David raced for the door to his room, which opened onto an alley, his only thought to help the young woman who was clearly in distress.

Racing around a corner he burst onto the scene to see a girl of about seventeen surrounded by three teenaged young men, one of whom had her by the wrist. "You'll do as I say, and I say you're staying here with me!"

"Seems to me she can make her own choice—and it doesn't seem to include going anywhere with you," David interrupted.

Four sets of eyes snapped to him. Relief washed over the girl's face, but the young man only tightened his grip, pulling her closer to him. "I don't think it's any of your business, friend," he retorted menacingly. His two cohorts stepped purposefully toward David, their intentions clear.

"Look, so far no one's gotten hurt," David reasoned, motioning for calm, trying to defuse the situation as he stepped tentatively toward the girl, hand outstretched to her. "Just let her go, and walk away, and we don't need to bring the police into this."

"Look friend, you're the one who needs to walk away, otherwise you won't be able to involve the police once we're done with you." At that moment the girl wrenched herself free of her captor, his attention no longer focused on her, as the other two youths encircled David, slowly starting to close the distance between them.

"Run," David yelled to the girl as he lunged toward his attackers, hoping to buy her the time to disappear into the night. He watched in satisfaction as she turned and fled down the dark alley.

"We'll get her later," said the apparent leader. "She won't be able to make it very far on her own. Let's take care of him first." The three young men drew nearer, one smacking a tire iron against his palm. David turned to run in the opposite direction from the girl as several sets of hands clawed at him, the metal cracking against his skull, and all went black.

oooOOOooo

Someone was shaking him. "Mister, are you all right? Your head's bleeding."

He sat up slowly, wincing as he touched a particularly sore spot on the back of his head, his fingers coming away sticky and red.

"What happened?" he asked, still dazed but aware enough to assess himself. His shirt wasn't ripped or missing, his feet still clad in his boots. He breathed a silent sigh of relief, meeting the girl's worried eyes. The creature hadn't made an appearance.

"They knocked you out, and one of them stole your wallet."

"That's not what I meant," he said, climbing gingerly to his feet. "Why are you still here? I told you to run," he lectured, the words coming out more brusquely than he'd intended. Seeing the confusion and fear in her eyes he stopped, reaching for calm, addressing her softly, compassionately this time. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"

"No, I ran like you said, and while they were after you I climbed one of the fire escapes. After they brained you they came looking for me, but a siren started wailing the next street over and they took off. I guess they were afraid someone else had called the police, but no one came to help you. Once I was sure they were gone I climbed down to check on you." She stopped, wringing her hands. "I thought they killed you, you know?"

"How long ago did they run off?" His gaze traveled about the alley.

"Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Are you okay, mister?" she asked again. "You saved me."

"I'll be fine, but you never should have stayed here. They might have come back, looking for you." He took her gently by the arm. "They still might. C'mon, let's get inside. My place is just around the corner. We can go in and call the police."

"NO! No police!" Her look became panicked; she tensed, preparing to flee again.

"All right, we'll talk about that later," he conceded, palms turned up in resignation, trying to appease her. "Right now let's just get you inside." He gestured toward the building again. The girl was frozen with indecision, her eyes rapidly traveling from David's face to the alley and back again. "I won't hurt you," he said in his most serene, reassuring voice. "Just come in for a few minutes to make sure they don't come back. After that, you're free to leave whenever you'd like."

With a hurried glance over her shoulder, she came to a swift decision. "Okay, but just for a minute." She continued to eye him warily. It seemed that at the moment he was the lesser of two evils.

oooOOOooo

She was seated on the one comfortable chair he had in his room, legs tucked up under her, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. An oversized backpack rested on the floor beside her, a heavy winter coat perched haphazardly atop it.

He had addressed the cut on the back of his head and was now across the room from her, sitting on a chair from his kitchen table turned backward, elbows propped on the wooden lattice back, trying to give her the space she seemed to need. He found he was reluctant to do anything that might put her on edge.

Tired of the uncomfortable silence he began to gently press her for information. "I'm David." A pause. "And you are?" he prodded. No response. He grinned at her, interlacing his fingers. "Well, if you want me to just call you 'Hey You,'" he intoned slowly, wryly, "then that's what I'll do."

She smiled slightly at that. "I'm Jennifer," she began softly. She sipped at the mug in her hands. "Thanks for, you know, helping me. And for the tea," she added as an afterthought.

"Why were those boys after you?" he continued, seizing on the momentum the conversation had gained, however slight, doing his best to keep it going.

"They weren't after me," she replied after a brief moment of hesitation, "They're my friends."

"Some friends," he observed astutely, trying to catch her eye.

"The one who was holding my wrist is Todd, my boyfriend," she explained. "We just had a fight is all."

"It seemed like more than that to me. As I recall, you said something about wanting to go home, and he insisted you didn't." He softened his tone. "Was he holding you against your will?"

"No. I actually wanted to be with him, but I've changed my mind."

"Meaning?" he prodded.

"Look, it's no big deal. I'm on my own now and I'll just go home," she informed him matter-of-factly.

"They might spot you again. Can you call someone to come and get you?" he asked.

"Not really practical," she answered cryptically.

"Well, then at least let me take you. I'd offer you cab or bus fare, but they got most of my money."

"I'm sorry about that, really I am." Without warning, tears welled in her eyes. She scrubbed angrily at her face, stubbornly refusing to explain the cause of the sudden flood of emotion.

"Jennifer, I'm trying to help you," he offered gently, "but I can't unless you level with me. Why isn't it practical for you to go home?"

"Because home's in another state, all right?" she retorted vehemently, swiping at her cheeks again, now flushed a bright crimson.

"Did Todd kidnap you? Because if he did, all you have to do is go to the police and they'll help you get home."

"No police!" she shrieked again, slamming her mug down on a side table, the contents sloshing over the rim.

He waited a few seconds as her breath rasped harshly, in then out. "Why not? You don't have to protect him. If he took you against your will—"

"Because I'm a runaway, get it?" she admitted, her face fraught with despair and self-loathing. She slumped down in the chair and wrapped her arms tightly about herself.

He rose to his feet and moved to the bed, settling himself on the end, hands clasped loosely between his knees. He could reach out and touch her now if need be. "That won't matter," he assured her softly. "They'll still do everything they can to get you home."

"Not if they find out what I've done," she whispered in a small, frightened voice, the tears starting anew.

He leaned over and rested a hand lightly on her knee. "Why don't you tell me everything, from the beginning, and I'll do my best to help you."

"You promise you won't call the police?"

"Jennifer, I can't make a promise like that without having all the facts. Surely you understand that?"

She got to her feet, his hand falling away. "Then you really _don't_ want to help me, do you?" She reached for her coat.

He stood as well, tentatively touching her forearm before dropping his hand. "All right, no police," he conceded, out of options, "but I can't believe you did anything so terrible that they wouldn't help you."

"Sure you can't. How would _you_ know? I'll bet you've never been on the wrong side of the law a day in your life," she observed perceptively, her eyes scouring him from top to bottom.

 _Oh child, if you only knew,_ he thought silently. "Okay, you win," he said aloud. "We'll talk about that later. C'mon, you must be hungry," he observed, changing the subject, steering her toward the table. Right now he was content to do anything that would keep her from leaving. If he could gain her trust, he might be able to make her see reason. "I was in the process of making my dinner," he said, pointing to a pot simmering away on the stove. "It's not a gourmet meal by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm sure I can scare up enough for two."

oooOOOooo

They talked for several hours—well, she mostly talked and he mostly listened—over heaping plates of spaghetti, thick slices of French bread with butter, and several more mugs of tea. He learned she was only sixteen, had had a fight with her parents three weeks ago over Todd, among other things, and the two of them had fled Wyoming, hoping to get as far as Las Vegas, where Todd assured her they could get married despite the fact that she was underage. All that mattered was that he was over eighteen, he'd informed her, and she'd believed him, trusted him. He loved her, after all.

At first, it had seemed like a good plan, but they only had money enough for bus tickets to get them as far as Salt Lake City, Utah. After that they'd hitched rides, keeping off the Interstates in case the authorities were looking for them, and wound up in Salina last week. While here, they'd met the other two youths who were with them in the alley, also runaways.

The two other boys had concocted a plan to rob a local convenience store: they'd wait for dark, choose a time when there were no other patrons in the store, and overpower the person behind the counter. The three boys would do the deed, with Jennifer outside on the street, serving as lookout. She'd wanted no part of it but Todd had convinced her that they had to, that this was the only way they could get the money they needed to make it to Las Vegas.

Reluctantly she'd agreed, and they'd tried a few hours ago but the clerk had pulled a gun from behind the counter and they ran away, empty-handed. The boys had decided to try again, at a different store and armed with the tire iron this time, but she had flat-out refused to participate, certain someone—either one of them or an innocent bystander—would get hurt or killed in the process. That was the argument David had stumbled onto several hours ago.

Despite the fact that he'd assured her it was very unlikely the store owner would prosecute, especially since they actually hadn't committed a crime, no amount of persuasion on his part could convince her to go to the police. Regardless of everything that had happened she was no snitch, she insisted resolutely, would not provide information against her fellow runaways.

And calling her parents to come get her was apparently not an option, either. Her family was barely subsisting, her father working two jobs to put food on the table for Jennifer, her younger brother and sister, and his wife. They were several months behind on the mortgage, the family winding up homeless at some point a real possibility. To her mind, leaving three weeks ago would make things easier for her family—they'd have one less mouth to feed, more disposable income to put toward bills.

They only had one car, an old clunker that tended to break down more often than not, and her father, who worked on the weekends as well, couldn't afford to miss work for the time it would take to come and get her, nor did they have the money to send her a return bus ticket.

She had tried to get a part-time job after school, thinking she could use that income to help her family, but there were none to be had in her small home town. David had tried to talk her into calling her folks anyway, certain that between all of them they could find a way to get her home, but she'd have none of it. If she called, they'd probably just send the authorities after her, she'd reasoned, and the police were not an option. She was bound and determined to return on her own, not to cause her parents any more worry or stress than she already had, or to tax them financially, knowing how tight money was for them. After all, she'd hitched rides to get this far south. Hitching rides back north should be just as easy.

He'd argued against it, pointing out that on the way here she'd had Todd with her, which might have kept some unscrupulous people from taking advantage of her, but as is often the case with the young, they feel invincible, indestructible, and she couldn't see the danger, or so he thought.

Finally he'd pledged to go with her, to see her safely returned to her parents, explaining that he was traveling around, too, had no ties to this place, that one town was as good as another. At first she had balked at the idea, but he was insistent; said she needed to let him go with her or he would go to the police and tell them everything.

At this point she'd broken down again, admitted that she was terrified to do this on her own, but would do anything to be home by Christmas. In spite of their differences she missed her family terribly. She'd made a grievous mistake, and just wanted to make things right with her parents again.

Upon hearing that his own heart clenched. It conjured up fresh memories of the pain he'd endured when leaving his family behind yet again three weeks ago. The tears on Helen's face; the feel of the hug his dad had given him just before he left: It was laced with sadness, regret and understanding. For most of his life, he and his father weren't able to really _talk_ to one another, to express latent emotions and feelings, but somehow the hug they shared had succeeded where words failed—for both of them. He looked away from the girl, not wanting her to mistake his sudden melancholy for reluctance to help her. If it was in his power, he'd make sure her dream was realized. He knew firsthand how it felt, how rebuilding those bridges could mean so very much.

He'd held her close while she wept, uttering a sincere whispered promise that he'd get her home before the holiday somehow. By now it was almost midnight. He persuaded her to wait until morning before they began their journey, pointing out that this was likely to be the last good night's sleep they'd get. Besides, he had to swing by the restaurant in the morning and let his boss know he was leaving. He'd been up front with the man, telling him in advance it was likely he'd have to leave on short notice, but felt obligated to give him the news in person, not just walk away and leave him short-handed without an explanation. The man had been kind enough to help him when he was down. Returning the favor was the least he could do.

He'd given Jennifer his bed, stretching out on the floor across the room. He listened as the girl softly cried herself to sleep. That only fueled his determination to do whatever it took to fulfill his promise. He closed his eyes as well, confident that he'd get her home in just a few days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The day dawned blustery and cold, the threat of snow evident in the heavy gray clouds that blotted out the sun. Hanging low in the sky, they appeared to skim the tops of the buildings, snag on the bare branches of tall trees. Looking like overstuffed bags of cotton batting, it would only be a matter of time before they burst, sending their contents floating gently earthward.

David rose while she still slept, and reluctant to wake her, he left her a note instead, telling her where he was, when he'd be back, and insisting she help herself to breakfast while he was gone. He promised they'd leave as soon as he returned so urged her to be packed and ready.

He found her happily munching on a bowl of cereal when he let himself back into the room, her hair still slightly damp, cheeks rosy and glowing.

"That's the first hot shower I've had in five days," she said with a smile. "Didn't think I'd ever be able to scrub all the grime off."

"Well, once we get you home that won't be an issue," he said, retrieving a bowl from the cupboard.

Her smile turned introspective. "No, I guess it won't." She set her spoon down, regarding him intently. "I just want to thank you again for helping me, for insisting that I let you. I didn't realize until talking to you last night that I'd made a terrible mistake, that no matter what obstacles are thrown up in front of you it's best to confront them head-on, with those you love and who love you at your side. You made me see that, and I'll always be grateful."

He kept his back to her as he felt himself flush. So, their discussion from the previous evening made an impression after all. He _was_ beginning to wonder. He plucked a spoon from a drawer and headed for the table. "Thanks for the compliment but that wasn't me, it was all you," he said, settling into the chair opposite her and folding his hands on the table. "You're much stronger than you think, or than you give yourself credit for. Don't ever forget that, or let anyone tell you differently."

Now it was her turn to fall silent as she mulled over that sentiment, that unwavering confidence in her, conveying with her eyes the gratitude she couldn't express with mere words. He accepted the tacit appreciation with a slow-building grin. "Pass me the cereal, I'm starving too you know."

She complied, her answering smile confirming the silent understanding between them as they filled their bellies in preparation for the long journey ahead of them.

oooOOOooo

This was the first car they had seen in over half an hour. It stopped just ahead of them. "Can I help you folks?" the driver asked, rolling down the window on the passenger side as they approached.

They had been traveling for the better part of the day, mostly on foot, occasionally doing short jaunts in warm vehicles thanks to the good will of motorists who took pity on the two, exposed to the elements as they were. Now they found themselves on a back road running parallel to Interstate 15 as it wound its way through the Rockies.

"We're heading north and could sure use a ride," David answered, leaning through the window.

"I'll be going that way for at least an hour. Hop in."

David settled himself into the front seat while Jennifer tugged open the back door. She slipped off her backpack, setting it next to her as she slid to the driver's side.

"Bill Morris," the driver announced as he pulled back onto the road.

"David Bailey." He looked to Jennifer who was hanging over the back of the bench seat, eyes traveling from one man to the other. David opened his mouth to speak, but she chimed in before he could get the words out.

"I'm Alice, and this here's my dad," she interjected, gesturing to David. "Thanks for the lift, mister. It was getting pretty cold out there."

"Which is why I stopped," the driver informed them. "You folks break down or something? I didn't see an abandoned vehicle along the road."

"No, we're sightseeing," Jennifer explained. "Daddy insisted this was the only way to travel, the only way to really see the country up close and personal like. We've been on the road for almost two weeks now. Started off at the Grand Canyon and are working our way north toward Yellowstone. We even did the bit where you can stand on one spot and be in four states at the same time. That was so cool, wasn't it, Daddy?"

Once again, he could not get his reply out fast enough. "Not to disbelieve you or anything little lady," the man interrupted, "but shouldn't you be in school?" His questioning gaze landed squarely on David.

A surreptitious glance from Jennifer told him to let her take this. With an imperceptible nod of the head, he deferred to her. "Christmas break starts Monday," she began, "And Daddy fixed it with the school before we left. They're counting this as part of my senior project," she continued, beaming with pride. "A living natural history lesson. I've just got to write an essay about it when we're done."

"Well, wouldn't summer be a better time to see Yellowstone?" Mr. Morris asked. "You know, get to see more of nature and all?"

"Not for me. How would I be able to count it as my senior project seeing as I'll be graduating this spring? Besides," she explained matter-of-factly, "we're from San Diego and I've never seen snow before. Getting to see everything covered in snow is just adding to the adventure. And I'll bet you didn't know that the bison, wolves and coyotes are out in force during the winter, not to mention the birds of prey and assorted small mammals and rodents. There'll be lots to see, in addition to the standbys like Old Faithful," she informed him.

"Do you know they have snow mobile tours and everything at Yellowstone?" she added breathlessly. "Daddy promised to take me on one. We're sure to get a close-up view of nature that way."

Deftly she changed the subject. "We're not used to the cold, though. Hitching is a good way to get acclimated," she reasoned. "It almost never drops below 45 degrees at home, even in the winter." The driver nodded in agreement.

They rode with the man for the better part of an hour, Jennifer chattering incessantly with him about anything and everything, doing her best to put the driver at ease with his passengers. David feigned sleep. So much the better to prevent him from accidentally contradicting anything she said, and besides, if the authorities had gotten information about Jennifer to the general public, his indifference and her riding in the back seat alone should quell any suspicions that she was the girl they were looking for, or that he was holding her against her will. They didn't fit the standard profile of abductor and victim. After all, he wasn't attempting to restrain or silence her in any way. Her easygoing demeanor would belie the notion that he was in any way dominating or restricting her behavior, and they'd expect her to be traveling with a much younger man. He grinned inwardly. Getting her home by Christmas was going to be the easiest and most satisfying thing he'd done in a long time, he thought confidently to himself. If their luck continued to hold out, they might even be there by late tomorrow.

oooOOOooo

"Daddy, wake up." He opened one eye to find Jennifer leaning over the front seat. "Mr. Morris is heading east now, so we hafta get out."

"If you'd like I could drop you by Interstate 15," the man offered helpfully. "It's only twelve or so miles east of here and right on my way. Lots more traffic on there, and all headed north. You can pick up I-80 right outside of Salt Lake City, and that will take you right into Wyoming. With any luck you two could be in Yellowstone by tomorrow."

"Thank you, but we can't." David decided to handle this one himself. "It's illegal to hitchhike on the Interstates, and besides, the goal is for Alice to see the country on this trip. There's nothing to see along the Interstate." He graced the man with a polite, apologetic smile. "I'm sure there are plenty of small roads like this one that cross over into Wyoming, too."

"Makes sense," Mr. Morris agreed. "It'll be dark in a few hours, though. I'd hate for you two to get stuck way out here in the middle of nowhere. Judging by the cloud cover, there's a storm on the way." He glanced apprehensively at the sky.

"We've got that covered," David said, tugging a map out of his bag. "According to this there's a small town six or so miles up the road—Autlinburg," he said, jabbing a finger onto the strategically folded piece of paper. "Even without a ride we can make it there before dark, get a room for the night and a hot meal."

"It's not that far out of my way. I'd be happy to take you," the man offered.

"Thanks, that's very generous of you, but we couldn't possibly impose on you any further. Besides, it's not snowing yet."

"Daddy, look!" Jennifer called from the opposite side of the road. She squatted down, her fingers brushing the layer of snow covering the ground. "There's some kind of tracks here."

Morris took the hint. "Well, I guess I'll let you two have at it, then. Best of luck, Mr. Bailey. I wish I'd thought of this with my kids. Great way to connect. Everyone's so busy these days, so wrapped up in themselves. It's nice to see someone take time for family. Take the time to stop and smell the roses—literally. Young lady," he called to Jennifer. "Enjoy this time with your dad. You'll really appreciate the memories you two are making someday."

"I will, Mr. Morris," she replied, running over to the car. "And thanks for the lift. Now you'll be part of our memories, too." She grinned sweetly at the man.

David reached a hand through the window. Morris grasped it warmly. "Yes, thanks again," David echoed, "You've been a great help."

"My pleasure. You folks have fun on your trip, now." He rolled up the window and drove off.

"Well, shall we?" David said, gesturing down the road. Jennifer fell into step beside him.

They walked in silence for a while, the elevation increasing gradually but steadily, a large embankment to their right, its top hidden by clouds. The hill continued its downward slope to the left of the road, giving the appearance this narrow, winding thoroughfare was carved right into the side of a small mountain. A good half foot of snow buried all the terrain within sight, except for the road. It had obviously been plowed recently, only a thin layer of snow and ash covering it. After ten minutes or so had gone by, David felt compelled to ask her about the issue niggling at the back of his brain like an itch he couldn't scratch.

"That was some pretty impressive storytelling back there," he observed, somewhat taken aback by the ease with which she wove the tale. "Makes me wonder if I'm being had," he added, his tone jovial, joking, a wry grin on his lips but his eyes hard and questioning.

"That," she scoffed, a white cloud of steam puffing from her lips. "That was nothing. All about places I want to go and things I want to see someday. I've read about all of them," she informed him, her gaze suddenly turning inward, focused far away from the here and now. "Except for Yellowstone. Went there with my grandfather four years ago. Went during the summer, and he promised to take me back in the winter. He got real sick and died last year, though. We never did make it back."

"I'm sorry Jennifer."

"Me, too. We had a special bond that nobody else understood. I miss him every day." Her eyes clouded over for a moment, but she pushed the pain down, continuing with her litany. "And I hope to be a writer someday. That was just practice. Haven't had the chance to do a lot of writing these past few weeks. Don't wanna get rusty." She favored him with a lopsided grin, which turned in an instant to a look of earnestness. "As for what I told you about my family and how I came to be in Salina, that was all true, honest," she assured him, her voice and demeanor positively exuding sincerity.

He considered that, coming to the conclusion that he believed her.

oooOOOooo

Over the next half an hour several cars came and went, but none stopped to pick up the weary travelers. At last the heavens opened up, at first a few lazy flakes spiraling earthward. David and Jennifer picked up their pace, spurred on by the imminent threat. As the storm continued to increase in intensity, fat flakes began to fall thickly, cutting their visibility to a few feet in front of them. Within minutes the two were engulfed in a fluffy coat of white. It clung to their clothing as if they had been doused with a generous layer of powdered sugar. The wind picked up as well, intermittent gusts buffeting them to and fro like flags twisting and snapping in a stiff breeze

"How much farther?" she shouted, shifting her backpack to a more comfortable position, a particularly strong blast of wind virtually swallowing her words. She blew on fingers stiffened by the cold, her mittens all but useless.

"Just about two miles," he yelled, leaning in close to her in order to be heard above nature's cacophony. "We can be there in a little over half an hour if we put our minds to it. Following the road isn't so bad, and we have at least an hour and a half of daylight left." He leaned into the wind. "Walk behind me," he instructed. "It should be easier for you if I break the wind first."

She shifted to a position behind him, the terrain on either side disappearing into an almost solid wall of densely falling snow. As they continued to make headway a plow rumbled by, going in the opposite direction. But unexpectedly the rumbling grew louder, not softer as the vehicle disappeared around a bend in the road. David stopped, cocking his head to get a better appreciation of what the sound was and where it was coming from. Suddenly he grabbed Jennifer's hand. "Run! It sounds like an avalanche." They raced for the opposite side of the road, his immediate thought to hunker down where it sloped off. He knew they couldn't outrun the fluid mass but with luck, they could shelter there, brace themselves against one of the tree trunks while the majority of the snow above them thundered past.

It was upon them before they made it, however. He was swallowed up by an ocean of white, Jennifer's hand slipping from his, his skin stretching, muscles inflating, his clothing and boots being torn from his body as conscious thought gradually faded into oblivion.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

She continued to tumble end over end, the panic overwhelming now, overriding any rational thought. After what seemed an eternity the world stopped moving and she found herself in a semi-upright position, the backpack helping to provide a pocket in the snow around her. She took a moment to assess herself. Other than a dull ache in her right ankle and some bumps and bruises she felt relatively undamaged.

Quickly her thoughts turned to the man who had been traveling with her. "David?" she called, the word echoing throughout the small cocoon of snow surrounding her. _Get a grip,_ she admonished herself as intuition kicked in. _The air in here will only hold out for a short while. Don't go wasting what luck has provided by being galactically stupid._ She worked to consciously slow her breathing. Tentatively she reached a mittened hand above her head. _I'm not even sure that's up._ She closed her eyes, focusing inward, trying to discern through sensation alone in which direction the surface, and freedom lay. She took a deep breath and opening her eyes, she scoured her surroundings, attempting to ascertain even a hint of daylight through the layer of snow. Willing herself to be calm she allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness that filled the confined space, certain that things seemed a just a hair lighter above her stomach. _I must be on my back,_ she surmised as she reached up a hand and began to dig with focused determination. After a few minutes she heard noises from above, a scraping sound as if someone was clearing snow from the opposite side.

"David?" she said again. "Is that you?" The grunting became louder, the scraping and shifting of snow more frenetic as light definitely began to filter in, the blackness easing infinitesimally. "Thank God you found me. I'm here," she yelled, as she began to furiously chip away at the compressed layer of white with both hands. Suddenly, something broke through the surface above her—not the normal, flesh-colored hand of her companion as she had expected but an oversized, green-skinned one. Growls and snarls continued to rain down on her from above. At the moment, though she didn't spare a thought for the strange sights and sounds that accosted her senses, her only goal to escape from her frigid prison of white.

Finally fingers closed around her jacket, pulled her out of the small, confining space and deposited her on the surface, littered with bits of tree branches, roots and small rocks. She looked up, words of gratitude for her rescuer forming on her lips, but a scream erupted from her instead upon the sight that met her eyes.

Before her stood what could only be described as a primitive creature, clad only in a pair of pants that ended in tatters somewhere below its knees, snow clinging to its hair and broad shoulders. It flinched at her scream, as if it had expected something else from her, confusion playing over the primeval features, a greenish cast to the skin and hair visible even in the fading light. She made to stand and run, but the injured ankle collapsed under her. She landed unceremoniously on her backside in the snow.

That seemed to upset the creature. It reached toward her, the severe features softening somewhat. She shrank back from the outstretched hand. "Don't touch me," she whispered fearfully as the hand was slowly withdrawn. "David, where are you?" she called, frantic now, eyes never leaving the seven-foot-tall behemoth before her. "Please help me."

 _He must not have made it,_ she said silently, a sudden flood of tears burning her cheeks. _Great! I'm either going to freeze to death or be torn apart by Bigfoot._ A laugh clawed at her throat, a harsh, bitter sound that landed somewhere between terror and fury.

That spurred the beast into motion. It reached for her again. "Leave me alone! Go away!" she shouted, slapping at the green appendage.

Once again confusion clouded the creature's brow, but instead of walking off as she had hoped, it plopped down into the snow, far enough away that it couldn't touch her, but the intention was clear all the same. If she couldn't walk out of here, then it wasn't going, either. _So what's the deal?_ she wondered. _Are we both gonna sit here until we're human popsicles?_ She laughed aloud again, this time the sound dripping with irony. _Well,_ I'll _be a human popsicle at least. Lord only knows what you'll be._ Keeping her gaze fixed on the creature, she struggled to stand again. It was on its feet and beside her in an instant, a hand held out once more. Shifting her weight to her good leg, she slid the backpack from off her shoulders; it landed with a thud at her feet. Right hand on one of the straps, she reached out and gingerly touched the forearm of the beast with the other, steadying herself, ready to smack it with the backpack if it did anything untoward.

"Are you trying to help me?" she asked. The creature merely scrunched up its nose at her. "I can't walk, get it? No sense in both of us freezing to death, so why don't you just go?" A beat. "Can you understand me?" she asked, frustration winning out over the fear.

It continued to stare at her, the hand now shifting to her waist, the other grabbing her behind the knees. The next thing she knew she was in the beast's arms as it started to walk away, the pack falling from her fingers and landing in the snow.

"Wait," she said softly and the creature stopped, regarding her keenly. "You _are_ trying to help me, aren't you?" It cocked its head to one side, a shy smile forming on the thick lips. "Well, I need my pack," she informed it, gesturing to the canvas bag at its feet. It bent down and grabbed the straps with the fingers of the hand under her knees and retrieved the bundle before walking toward the setting sun which was now playing peek-a-boo with the retreating storm clouds.

"That's the wrong way," she admonished softly. The beast halted again; the look of confusion was back. "The road's east, but it's way too steep for us to go that way. The town David and I were trying to get to is just a few miles north of here, that way," she said, gesturing to the creature's right.

After a cursory glance in that direction the beast looked to her again for confirmation. "It's okay," she assured it. "Our best chance is to go that way."

Turning north the creature set off, its steps sure and deliberate, Jennifer clutched securely to its chest.

oooOOOooo

As they trudged on in silence, the only sound that of the snow crunching under the creature's feet, the precipitation gradually tapered off, finally halting altogether. Once again, Jennifer tried to talk to her green-skinned rescuer.

"Aren't you cold? I mean, no shirt and no shoes. I'm freezing and I'm bundled up." The beast merely tilted its head to look at her, its gaze then shifting to the path ahead of them once again as twilight approached.

"Where'd you come from, and why are you helping me?" As before, there was no answer, the behemoth simply shifting her weight in its arms.

"We need to find a safe place to hole up for the night," she continued, finding that talking aloud helped to ease her jittery nerves, keep her focused. It provided her with the sense of security, of normalcy, she so desperately needed at the moment. "A cave or something. It's gonna get a heck of a lot colder once the sun sets." A beat. "I'm pretty sure you have no clue how to make a fire," she intoned facetiously. Another pause. "At least it stopped snowing for now, but that might change, too." She realized she was rambling, no rhyme or reason present to the string of words that tumbled from her lips. She opted for quiet, trying desperately to make sense of her current predicament.

A dark shape one hundred yards or so in the distance caught her eye. "Hey, what's that?" she asked, raising herself up slightly and craning her neck to see through the dense forest to the cleared area beyond. "Can you please stop?" she said, resting a hand gently on the beast's shoulder.

It glanced down at her again but seemed to understand, halting its forward momentum. "That way," she said, gesturing to the left this time. "Let's go see what that is. Looks manmade," she commented absently. As they approached she couldn't hide her delight. "It's a cabin! Probably a hunting cabin. Looks like no one's there, or has been there in ages, though," she added disconsolately as she observed the undisturbed snow before it, the absence of smoke pouring from the chimney.

They continued onto the front porch, Jennifer motioning for the creature to set her down in front of the door. It deposited her on her feet. She shifted her weight to her left leg, a hand on the doorframe providing her the support she needed to stand. "Locked," she announced, defeated, as she tried the knob. She looked to the creature; it grunted and raised its arms above its head, obviously intending to smash the door down.

"No, don't!" she yelled, inserting herself between the beast and the door, arms also upraised as she made to stop him. "This has got to belong to someone. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't take kindly to us breaking the door down. Besides," she added, "It'll be awfully hard to keep it warm in there, or keep the wind and snow out, without a door. I know in Wyoming it's common courtesy to let others use hunting cabins, particularly if you're lost in the woods and need shelter. Maybe they hid a key around here somewhere," she said, dropping to her knees. She peeled off her mittens, stuffed them in a pocket of her coat, and began feeling around the pile of firewood stacked neatly under a tarp on the porch. After about a minute she sat back dejectedly. "Nothing here, at least that I can find."

The creature picked up on her discomfiture. This time, it reached out and grasped the doorknob, twisting until the lock gave way with an audible pop. It pushed gingerly and the door swung open. It looked to Jennifer again, almost as if asking, "Now what?"

She beamed up at it. "Hey, neat trick. Only thing they'll need is a new doorknob. Let's go in." As she attempted to stand, the beast made to gather her into its arms again. "No, I'm okay. The ankle feels a whole lot better now. Just let me lean on you, okay?" She grasped the muscular forearm and the creature seemed to understand. It walked slowly beside her, serving as a living crutch as she hobbled through the door.

The interior was dark, feeble pools of light puddling on the floor as they spilled through the open door and the four small windows, one on each of the walls. She felt around on the smooth surface located on either side of the door. "No light switch," she mumbled to no one in particular. "Probably no electricity this far out." She waited a moment for her eyes to adjust. Finally, a square shape floating about three feet off the floor coalesced out of the darkness, a large, elliptical-shaped object standing upright in the center. "A table, with some kind of lamp on it," she surmised aloud. "Probably kerosene. Wouldn't make sense to use something battery-operated." She swept her hand across the table, her fingers closing on a box of matches. In no time she had the lamp lit and turned to look at her companion but the beast had slumped to the floor, its eyes heavy and unfocused, its body swaying slightly. She watched, transfixed, as the primeval features began to melt, becoming fluid, like wax running down the side of a candle.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, lifting the lamp off the table and holding it closer to the green-skinned giant's head. "What's wrong with you?" Fear was now creeping into her tone again. The contours of the creature's face continued to mutate, shrink into something else altogether. Finally they remolded themselves enough that she was able to recognize the countenance of her previous traveling companion emerge, the green cast to the skin fading. Now only the greenish-white irises remained. She recoiled in horror, the injured leg giving way as she sank to the floor and scuttled backward a few feet until she bumped into a wall and could retreat no farther. After a few more moments, David's eyes resumed their normal hazel color. He was still disoriented, dragging both hands across his face as if to wipe away the cobwebs left by the transformation she had just witnessed. Slowly his eyes focused on her.

"Jennifer?" She didn't answer him, eyes large and round, shining in the light from the lamp she had deposited at her feet. "What happened? Where are we?" he asked, eyes roaming around the darkened space. Suddenly his hands flew to his chest. He glanced down at his bare feet before finally settling his gaze on her.

"Don't you remember?" she responded in a small, meek voice.

"No," he answered honestly, the look on his face shifting once again as he focused his attention inward. "There was an avalanche," he remarked suddenly, a look of alarm flitting briefly across his now-human features. "We were separated. I remember losing my grip on your hand and then…" he stopped, searching her face now.

"Yes," she answered softly. "I was buried, and that thing, which just changed back into you, dug me out. I hurt my ankle and couldn't walk so it—I mean you—picked me up and carried me. We found this place by chance. You broke the lock on the door, we came in, and then … and then…" She stopped, watching him, her emotions running the gamut between profound gratitude and abject terror. "David, what are you?" she asked at last, her voice now skirting the edges of panic.

"Well, for starters I'm a doctor, so please let me check your leg to see if it's broken."

Comprehension dawned quickly. "You're the guy who becomes that Hulk thing." It was not a question. "I've read articles about it in _The_ _Register_. They say it's a killer." She shrank back, pressing herself closer to the wall.

"Yes. But you of all people should understand how stories can be embellished, how things can be blown out of proportion in order to sell newspapers." He did his best to keep his distance. "I understand that you're afraid of me, but ask yourself this: Did the creature hurt or threaten you in any way?"

"No. It actually saved my life. It was almost like some part of you was still in there, and knew that I needed help." Her gaze shifted to his face. "I tried to talk to it—I mean you—but you didn't answer. It was almost as if it couldn't speak, but did follow my directions."

"Is that how we got here?" he asked.

"Yes. You started carrying me because of my leg. I convinced you to head north toward the town—it was way too steep to climb back up to the road, and besides, there wasn't a lot of traffic on it. I figured my best chance to be rescued from your creature was to go where there were people who could help me. You have to understand—I was terrified, at least at first. I'd assumed you'd been killed, and really had no idea what the beast intended to do with me." She paused, a frown of contrition settling between her brows. "I didn't realize it was you; didn't understand until later that it wouldn't hurt me. I'm so sorry."

"No need to apologize. I don't blame you." Now it was his turn to look inward, his eyes becoming haunted, his expression pinched. "I don't remember anything that happens to me when the creature takes over. I just wake up later and wonder what I did, if I injured anyone, while in that state."

"But why does it happen to you?" she wanted to know.

"That's not important right now, but checking your leg is." He inched slowly toward her, his outstretched hand settling lightly on her shoulder. "Is it all right with you if I look at it?"

"I guess," she conceded, extending the injured appendage before her. "It feels a lot better than it did an hour ago," she admitted as soft, sure hands began gently probing the swollen joint, all the while watching her for signs of pain or discomfort.

"It's not broken," he stated with certainty as he rose to his feet, "just a sprain. Let's get you off of this floor and into something a little more comfortable, and I'll see if I can find something to wrap it with. Do you think you can lean on me and keep your weight off of it?" he, asked, placing the lamp back on the table and reaching a hand down to her.

"Your beast helped me gimp in here. I suppose you could do the same," she said with a sly smile, extending a hand to him. He helped her to her feet and deposited her on a worn sofa across the room. As they were walking he was no longer able to hide his shivering.

"You're cold," she observed. "You weren't cold before, though…" Her voice trailed off. "There's got to be something in here you can wear." Her eyes swept over the one-room dwelling as she attempted to peer into the murky corners from her vantage point on the sofa.

He crossed to the table and picked up the lamp, eerie shadows illuminating the dark places as he made his way about the room. Light splashed onto another table, also adorned with a kerosene lamp, and reflected off a wood-burning stove nestled in a corner. He lit the second lamp, setting it on another small table located to the left of the sofa.

A warm coat and several flannel shirts were hanging on pegs in the wall beside the door, three pairs of different kinds of boots tucked neatly beneath. He tugged down a shirt and slipped it on, his breath visible in the weak light cast by the lamp. He then slid his bare feet into a knee-high pair of rubber boots. "It's still freezing in here," he surmised. "We may be in out of the wind and snow, but we're a long way from being out of danger."

"There's a stack of wood under a tarp on the porch," she informed him. "If that stove in the corner still works, we might be able to take the edge off."

Ten minutes later he had a fire crackling within, the door ajar to allow for maximum heat exchange. "Let's get you a little closer," he said, dragging a wooden chair next to the stove and helping her over to it. Darkness had fallen outside but their eyes had adjusted to the dim space, islands of brightness provided by the lamps and fire. After a while she was able to take off her coat.

Leaving her in the zone of warmth, David continued his exploration of the small space. Two wooden frames, each interlaced with a latticework of rope, could only be rustic beds. No mattresses sat atop the rope springs; seemed they were designed almost as hammocks, a way to keep a hunter in a sleeping bag off the drafty floor. An old, dilapidated chest of drawers rested against a wall. Inside David found a few tee shirts, some hooded sweatshirts, a threadbare blanket which he wrapped around Jennifer's shoulders, and several towels, one of which he proceeded to tear into strips to bind the injured ankle.

"Thanks, David," she said with an affectionate grin when he was done. "That feels much better."

"You bet," he replied with an answering smile of his own. At that moment, Jennifer's stomach decided to protest loudly. "I was just on my way to see if there's anything in the cupboard over there." He climbed to his feet, crossing the room and opening the doors. "The larder is mostly bare," he announced. "Two cans of franks and beans, a can of fruit cocktail, some condensed soup, and a tin of sardines. Does my lady have a preference?"

"The franks and beans will do nicely, kind sir," she echoed, playing along. He rummaged around in some drawers and soon had the can open and emptied into a small pot which he set atop the wood-burning stove. He produced two oversized spoons. "Eatin' irons, m'lady, and as I had no luck procuring us fine china for dining, I'm afraid we'll have to eat our dinner right out of the pot."

She laughed at that, her look suddenly becoming serious. "Thank you, David, and I mean that," she continued earnestly. "Yesterday I was at my wit's end, feeling all alone in this world, certain I'd never get home to my family. I realize we're not in the best of situations right now," she remarked, gesturing to the space about them, "but I'm not scared, because you're here with me. I just know things will work out for us."

His cheeks burned with embarrassment, buoyed by her confidence in him. "Aw shucks, lil' lady," he said in a poor facsimile of John Wayne. "Maybe we'll get lucky and the cavalry will come a'ridin' over the hill to save us." He switched gears. "Eat up for now, and then let's think about getting some rest. It might be a long, arduous trek tomorrow."

They made short work of the can of beans, David then dragging the beat up sofa over by the stove so Jennifer would have a warm, somewhat comfortable place to sleep. He put one of the makeshift beds next to the stove for himself, assuring her that it would be more than suitable for him. He told her to go to sleep, that he wanted to bring in enough wood to get them through the night and he would join her. She stretched out and closed her eyes, asleep almost instantly. A combination of exhaustion and spent adrenaline he surmised.

He settled the blanket around her before slipping into the coat hanging on the wall and stepping outside. Much to his dismay he realized the storm had resumed, snow falling heavily again, the tracks they had made while coming here almost completely covered by a new layer of powder. He went back and forth several times, depositing an armload of wood beside the stove for each trip, all the while his mind focused on what might happen tomorrow.

He sat, brooding and thinking in front of the stove for several hours. Depending on the amount of snow that fell overnight, whether or not it was still snowing in the morning, and the state of Jennifer's ankle, they might not be able to leave at all tomorrow, or he might have to hike out by himself and bring help for the injured girl. The latter was a scenario he didn't want to entertain. The thought of leaving her here by herself notwithstanding, having to go to the authorities might wind up exposing him, or at least cause him problems if they somehow believed he was responsible for her disappearance. They would need to find a way to go together or not at all, he concluded. With a final stoke to the stove, he lay down on the "hammock" and closed his eyes. No sense fretting over it now. All would hinge on what came with the dawn.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The wind woke him as the sun was coming up, Jennifer still sleeping peacefully. He tossed the last of the wood into the stove and went outside to retrieve more. Close to a foot of snow had fallen overnight, and while fresh flakes were no longer fluttering down from above, the wind was still blowing steadily as if the mountains themselves were taking turns emptying their enormous lungs. He estimated the occasional gusts clocked in somewhere around 50 mph, and the sky still looked sinister, ominous. Even if Jennifer could bear weight on the ankle today, traveling was out of the question. Such a high wind chill would exacerbate the risk of frostbite and hypothermia, not to mention that trudging through the foot-deep pristine snow would be a slow, exhausting proposition. It would be best to stay put for the day. If need be, he'd head for town himself tomorrow, Jennifer's safety and well-being the paramount issue—one much more important than possible capture and unveiling of his secret.

He stepped back inside, arms full with a load of wood, to find her quietly watching him. "We're not leaving today, are we?" she surmised astutely, and then quickly amended the comment. "We can't. Too much snow, right?"

"Yes," he concurred, opening the stove door and feeding it wood as if shoveling coal into a steam locomotive's hopper, "Too much snow to get through, even if your ankle is up for the task, and way too windy. We can't risk being stranded, exposed to the elements and succumbing to frostbite or hypothermia. If it gets to the point where you can't walk, it's too deep for me to be able to carry you, and I've yet to come up with another way to transport you effectively. Even if I did find something we could use as a sled, I'm not sure I'd be able to pull it through that much powder."

"Y'know, you could just turn yourself back into that Hulk thing…" she said, tongue-in-cheek.

He sat back on his heels and graced her with a sad smile. "Unfortunately it doesn't work that way."

"Yeah, I kinda figured," she agreed. "I was just joking, you know?" she added with a reticent grin, "Trying to lighten the mood."

"Yeah, I know," he assured her, his tone proving he felt no offense at the comment. He seated himself on the other end of the sofa, the wind whistling among the eaves filling the silence between them.

"So, how _does_ it work?" she asked finally, both curiosity and a small dose of fear playing over her face.

He chose to ignore the question, rising to his feet instead. "If we're going to be stuck here for another day we might as well do it on a full stomach. There's not a lot to choose from, but how about fruit cocktail for breakfast?"

She nodded her assent, content to let the question go unanswered for the moment as she made to stand. He was beside her in an instant. "Easy. Nature is forcing you to rest the leg for another day. Don't look a gift snowstorm in the mouth."

"Easier said than done," she replied. "Much as I'd love to sit here where it's warm and cozy, nature calls, and it seems the only place to answer that call is outside." After wriggling into her coat she started to hobble toward the door.

Again he stopped her. "If you allow me, I'd be honored, m'lady." He presented his back. She laughed and hopped on. It had been many years since anyone had given her a piggyback ride. He crossed to the stove and retrieved the pot before heading for the door. "While you're taking care of business I'll wash the pot and fill it with snow." He could sense her confusion even though he couldn't see her. "We'll need something to wash down the fruit cocktail, right? It's my understanding that pine needles make a very tasty tea."

She giggled. "I hadn't thought of that."

oooOOOooo

They spent the better part of the day talking in front of the stove. He'd rummaged around and found a hatchet under the tarp as well. After helping Jennifer back inside, he spent half an hour procuring more wood in the immediate vicinity of the cabin. When he finally came inside, nose and cheeks red with cold, fingers and toes numb, Jennifer handed him a steaming mug of tea, assuring him that he was right; the pine needle tea was delicious. He'd been about to admonish her when she interrupted, pointing out that she'd been able to reach everything from the safety of the couch, including the two mugs they had used last night for water. She hadn't taxed her ankle at all, and just wanted to do _something_ to help out, to feel useful.

He'd gratefully accepted, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic, letting the steam thaw out his face before downing a healthy swig and then stoking up the stove once again. He crossed to the pantry, retrieving the fruit cocktail and a can of soup. After their unconventional breakfast the two had ensconced themselves next to the archaic heat source as the wind blustered and howled outside. By early afternoon the stiff breeze had chased away the cloud cover, the sun now shining brightly, glinting off the many facets created by the billions of snowflakes draped across the wilderness like a bejeweled afghan.

As before, he allowed Jennifer to do most of the talking, listening as she spoke about her family with the understanding ear of one who made similar mistakes over the years and had come to learn from them—not only about those people he loved, but about himself. And yet it was the fictional tales she spun that positively captivated him. For most of his life he had been a man of science, that which was tangible, visible and therefore believable the things that had shaped his understanding of the world around him. Here was someone who viewed life through a completely different prism than he was accustomed to; where he saw only form and reason she could look beyond the obvious, reach within herself and draw out the intangible in a given situation, throwing out a perspective he hadn't even considered. He was in awe of her gift, certain that her talent as a storyteller would take her far one day.

As the day wore on he came to trust her more and more, and as difficult as he found discussing his "condition" with laymen, he did finally open up to her regarding the factors that led to the transformation, mostly in an effort to ease her mind. It was not a topic that sprang easily from his lips, but he did feel he owed those who had seen the change firsthand something of an explanation. In Jennifer's case, while she appeared to be handling things well, he sometimes caught her watching him when she didn't think he was aware. In those unguarded moments he could sense her apprehension, her fear that despite what had happened yesterday, she believed she might unwittingly do something to trigger the metamorphosis, and that this time the beast may not be so docile. That the rage she had seen teetering at the periphery of the creature's exploits would somehow be directed at her this time. She knew he couldn't control the beast, had no recollection of what the creature did, and therefore he did his best to reassure her, to quell the fear that the next time it happened she might not be so fortunate.

In a show of solidarity he also found himself talking about his recent visit home; how much it meant to him to see his family again, if only briefly, and his difficulties with his own father—problems that reached well back into childhood which finally seemed to be healing, or at least partially scabbing over. As he talked, he was careful not to disclose the exact location of his boyhood home, or his true name. If she were questioned by the authorities at some point he wanted to be sure that she wouldn't be forced to lie to protect his identity, or that nothing he said could lead back to Helen and his father.

She had been genuinely touched by his story, greatly disturbed to think about this gentle and caring man traveling the country alone, hiding a terrible secret, playing a risky game of cat and mouse with that horrible Jack McGee, unable to rely on friends or family for support. It made her that much more determined to get back to her own family; to be thankful for what she had and not to take it for granted, or lightly.

Despite the fact that the weather had cleared, they decided to call the cabin home for one more night. They were already on the backside of the afternoon and really had no idea how long it would take to reach the town. As they were planning their excursion for tomorrow, contingent upon cooperation from the weather, the conversation was interrupted by the roar of a motor. The two exchanged a quick glance, as if to confirm that the other had heard it, too.

"The cavalry?" David remarked as he leapt to his feet and rushed to the door, flinging it wide. His breath left him in an audible gasp of relief as three snowmobiles came into view.

"Hey, am I glad to see you fellas," he shouted, waving his arms above his head. The trio stopped in front of the porch, eyeing him suspiciously. "We were caught in an avalanche yesterday and have been holed up here ever since. My daughter hurt her ankle in the process," he added as the men climbed off their machines, figuring he'd stick with the story Jennifer had concocted for now. "Can you help us?" he asked as the riders climbed the steps to the porch. The three surveyed the scene silently. "Is this your place?" he asked, slightly on edge now. "I'm sorry, we had to break the lock to get in, and we've eaten some of the food you left here. I'll be happy to pay for whatever we've done."

That caused one of the men to look at him. "Yeah, sure, it's my place," he said. "I'd like to look around inside, make sure nothing else is damaged. C'mon, boys," he said to the other two, gathering them with a nod and shouldering past David. The others fell into step behind him with David bringing up the rear.

Once inside, the "owner" surveyed the room, his gaze at last falling on Jennifer. "What's your name, girl?" he asked brusquely.

She looked to David, stationed a little behind the three. He pursed his lips and shook his head slightly, urging caution. "Alice," she answered, turning her attention back to her questioner. "And that's my dad." She thrust her chin toward David.

"Your 'dad' says you were caught in an avalanche yesterday. That true?"

"Yes. We were hitchhiking when it swept us off the road."

The man scoffed at that. "Nearest road is about three miles east of here. It carried you that far? And didn't kill you?" he added as an afterthought.

"No. Once we dug ourselves out we tried to head north, but it was still storming so we couldn't see the sun real well. We might have traveled a little west as well unintentionally."

"The point is," David interjected, coming to stand beside Jennifer, "we're here, and need help. Alice hurt her ankle. Is there any chance you could give us a lift to town, or send help? We're really in a jam."

"I'll say you are, mister. That's a nice story you told me about 'Alice,' but I happen to know her name is Jennifer. I work for the local police department and have seen 'pitchers' of a runaway named Jennifer Wilson." He turned to Jennifer. "That's you, isn't it?"

Shock registered openly on her face as she looked to David, unsure of how to respond.

"Only you didn't run away, right?" the man continued. "Did he hurt you?" he added as he sized up the situation, his gaze swinging to David. He took a step forward, hands clenching at his sides, the man's two companions instantly flanking him.

"It's not what you think," David remarked, palms thrust forward as if to ward off the men, backing slowly away from them. "She _is_ a runaway. I was trying to help her get home."

"It's the truth!" Jennifer screamed. "This man helped me get away from my boyfriend—he's the one who convinced me to run—and is taking me home. Please, he's not the bad guy, he's my friend."

"Then why the story? Why not lead with the truth?" The man's eyes traveled between David and Jennifer.

"Because we really don't know who you are. Yours could just as easily be a story. Do you have ID—a badge or something—to corroborate that you're a police officer?" David asked suddenly, now openly wary, mistrustful of the three.

"Sure," the ringleader said, stepping toward David. "Just let me get it out for you." He reached for his hip but came away with nothing but his fist, which he plowed into David's midsection.

David doubled over from the force of the punch as the man's two cohorts grabbed his arms. He struggled mightily but the "police officer" landed another blow, this time to David's face. He went down in a heap, the three men now kicking at him as he fought to rise.

"Don't do that to him!" Jennifer screamed, leaping to her feet and pummeling the ringleader with balled fists. He pushed her roughly back onto the sofa. "Oh please, stop!" she said, crying now. "You have no idea what will happen!" They continued to kick him, two of them finally picking him up and throwing him through the front door. Jennifer tried to run after David but the man shoved her down onto the couch again.

"How did you know who I am? Are you really a police officer?" she asked through the tears. "Because if you are, then I'll be sure to let your superiors know what a supreme ass you are," she spat bravely.

The ringleader cocked his arm as if to strike her. Jennifer cowered in the face of the blow and he simply sneered at her, lowering his hand. "Like you're ever gonna be able to tell them. Yeah, I do work for the local cops," the man continued, Jennifer glaring openly at him now, "but I'm the night custodian at the precinct. Seen your 'pitcher' when I was emptying trash cans. No reward offered for you," he lied. It wasn't substantial enough to outweigh other 'rewards' he and his friends could glean from her. "No reward means no one will miss you when you're gone, so you're worth more to us in other ways." Jennifer swallowed convulsively. Could it be that her family really didn't care? She looked again to the gaping door, wondering if David was unconscious … or worse.

The sneer became even more pronounced as he reached for her, licking his lips, his two companions chuckling in the background.

Suddenly a low growl erupted from the vicinity of the porch. "What the hell's that?" one of the men asked, "A mountain lion?"

"Go shut the door," the ringleader said. "As long as whatever it is can't get in here it don't mean nothing to us."

As the man turned and started walking toward the door, it was suddenly torn off its hinges and flung outside into the snow, a large, hulking shape now filling the doorway. The beast bent its knees and flexed its arms, bellowing at the men.

"Holy shit!" one exclaimed as they all backed away, leaving Jennifer on the couch to fend for herself. Another found the pile of wood next to the stove and began lobbing logs at the creature. It merely swatted them out of the way, its attention now focused on its attacker, teeth clenched, lips curled into a snarl. It headed toward him with slow, deliberate steps.

The other two ran for the door, believing the green behemoth was otherwise occupied, but it intercepted them, tossing them through the now empty doorway into the snow beyond the porch. The third man came at the beast, this time brandishing a log like a club, but he, too joined his associates outside. The creature made to follow, but a hand on its arm stopped it.

"Don't," Jennifer said. "You've saved me once again, protected me from those awful men, but you shouldn't hurt them, even if they deserve it."

It looked at her and then to the door. Finally it crossed the room and peeked out of the opening. The three men were shaken up but unhurt, busy wresting themselves from the snow, trying to clamber to their feet. It roared at them again, but didn't make a move toward them as Jennifer hobbled over to it. That spurred them into motion. They jumped on their snowmobiles and raced off to the north, the direction from which they'd come.

"Oh my God," Jennifer breathed as the shock of the moment finally caught up with her. She wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to stop the shaking that wracked her slight form, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. "That could have gone so badly." She sank to the floor, and the creature bent to swing her into its arms, carry her to the couch.

"NO!" she admonished. "We can't stay here anymore. It's not safe, for either of us. We have no idea how close the town really is, and I suspect they'll be back with help. Whether that's in the form of the police or friends of theirs, either way, that's not good for us. We need to leave, and the sooner, the better."

The beast's brow crinkled with confusion as she continued to talk, more to herself than anything. "We need a plan. Gimme a minute," she barked vehemently, unable to hide her annoyance, her mind racing feverishly. "According to what I saw on your map yesterday, there's another road west of here, State Route 6, I think. We should head that way. We can't go to Autlinburg; they might be looking for us. Once we make it to the highway we can hitch rides north again into Wyoming, hopefully bypassing the police. Will they even go to the police?" she argued to no one in particular. The creature merely listened, cocking its head to one side. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to reason things out. "Oh David, I really need to talk this over with you." The beast regarded her evenly. "But that's not gonna happen anytime soon, is it?" Silence. _C'mon Jennifer, you can do this,_ she told herself. _Think!_

"You can carry me, at least until you change back into you. As to whether we'll make it to the road before then, or before dark … we can't worry about that now. Right now we have to get as far from here as possible, as quickly as possible." She got to her feet and started to hobble about the room, but the beast presented its arm. She smiled up at it. "You are in there, even if you can't talk to me." It grinned back at her in response.

She made for the pegs beside the door, pulling down a shirt and the coat. "You weren't cold when you were like this, but when you change back you'll need these." She gestured to her pack beside the sofa. "Can you bring that over for me?" The creature looked from her to the bag and back again. "Yes, yes," she said in a huff, doing her best to quell her exacerbation, "Bring it here."

Dutifully it retrieved the pack, setting it at her feet. She stuffed the shirt and coat inside, then grabbed a pair of boots and tying the laces together, swung them around her neck. "You'll need these, too at some point," she intoned distractedly, surveying the room to see if there was anything else she could salvage. "Please help me," she said, holding a hand out to the creature. It offered her its arm again. Leaning on him for support she snatched the matches off the table and limped to the kitchen portion of the one-room cabin. David had mentioned that he'd found a jar of kerosene there, used to fill the lamps, no doubt. She added it, along with the matches, to her pack. She considered taking the food as well, but came to the conclusion that a couple of cans of soup wouldn't make or break them. Staying warm was what would matter in the long run. "If we don't make it to the road by nightfall, at least we'll be able to make a fire, hopefully keep from freezing to death." She ended her tour at the chest of drawers, adding a thick sweatshirt and tee shirt to the articles of clothing already in her pack.

Satisfied that she now had everything they'd need that she could carry, she turned to the beast. "Okay, we can leave now." It seemed to understand, gathering her into its arms, retrieving the pack and heading out the door. She stopped it on the porch. "Set me down for a sec, will ya?" It deposited her on her feet, and she pulled the hatchet from under the tarp. "Taking all this stuff is stealing, I know, but I think we need it more," she reasoned aloud, trying to convince herself more than anything. She slid the handle through a loop of fabric on the outside of her knapsack. "Okay, let's go," she said with finality as the green-skinned giant lifted her into its arms once again. It carried her down the steps and stopped, looking to her for instruction.

"That way," she told him, pointing toward the setting sun. "Let's just hope the wind covers our tracks, otherwise things could get ugly."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The three men stopped their machines a good mile from the cabin. "What the hell was that back there?" one of them asked, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the green behemoth was not in pursuit.

"Gentlemen," the ringleader said, "I'm pretty sure that was the Hulk."

"You mean that thing that's all over _The Register_ , Charlie?"

"That's exactly what I mean, Sam. We might have lost the girl, but there's a $10,000 reward for capturing that thing. Fellas, I think our ship has just come in."

"Are you nuts?" the third man asked. "In case you didn't notice, that thing was way stronger than the three of us combined. Even with the whole Autlinburg police department helping us, I doubt we could catch it, let alone restrain it."

"No cops, Frank," Charlie admonished darkly. "That just means splitting the reward that many more ways."

"Then how do you propose we catch it?" Sam asked skeptically. "It's not like it's gonna just roll over and meekly surrender if we tell it to. Besides," he continued, "Seeing as it swatted away those chunks of wood I was chucking at it like they were matchsticks, I think we'd have a hard time finding something strong enough to hold it even if we could capture it somehow. If you ask me, Frank's right." He nodded his agreement to the other man.

"The contact name in the paper is one Jack McGee. All it says is information leading to the capture, doesn't say anything about us having to do the capturing," Charlie reasoned. "We'll just point Mr. McGee in the right direction, let him figure out the details, and then sit back and collect the reward."

"How are we gonna do that?" Frank chimed in. "We have no idea if it'll still be at the cabin, or which way it went if it did leave."

"Something that big will have to leave a trail in the snow. If the weather cooperates, it should be easy enough to follow. If not, all the more reasons to hightail it to town, get McGee on the horn, and get him here as soon as possible."

oooOOOooo

The sound of the phone ringing woke him. He had been slumped over his desk in his office, dreaming he was trapped in a dark room, his hands brushing smooth walls, unable to find the exit. Behind him, growls and snarls drew ever nearer. In his mind's eye he could see the creature, sweat glistening off the green chest, the prehistoric brow furrowed in anger. He tried to run but long, strong fingers closed around the collar of his suit jacket, lifting him bodily off the floor. He twisted in his adversary's grasp, now face to face with the beast. He could just make out the thick lips drawn back into a grimace of rage, warm breath fanning his cheek …

"McGee here," he snapped into the receiver, not sure if he was more annoyed or relieved at the phone call.

" _Jack,"_ the operator said, _"Another crackpot on line two, claiming to have seen the Hulk. You want I should put him through?"_

"Sure, why not." There had been no reported sightings of the creature since it had been spotted in Treverton, Colorado over two weeks ago. "Did he say where he's calling from?"

" _Utah, I think."_

"Makes sense. Fairly close to the last sighting. Okay, Judy, let me talk to him."

" _You got it, Jack."_ There was a momentary silence on the other end, followed by clicks and whirs as the call was patched through the antiquated switchboard.

" _Hello?"_ a voice on the other end said. _"This Jack McGee?"_

"One and the same. How can I help you mister … mister …?"

" _Osborne, Charlie Osborne, and you can start by making that check for $10,000 out to me."_

Jack rolled his eyes, suppressing a sigh. Judy was right—sounded like another nutcase looking to make easy money. "You've seen the Hulk, then, Mr. Osborne?" he remarked without enthusiasm.

" _Seen it?"_ Charlie echoed. _"It practically killed me and my two buddies."_

Jack sat up a little straighter, shifting the receiver to his left hand and picking up a pencil with his right. "It did? How?"

" _Well, me and my buddies were out riding our snowmobiles in the woods when we came across this cabin, and there it was. Yanked us right off the machines and threw us into a snowbank. It was all we could do to escape with our lives."_

"A cabin? Was there anyone else there?" Jack asked. The caller had his full attention now.

" _Huh?"_

"This is important, Mr. Osborne," Jack remarked, pumping his hand to lend emphasis to his words even though he knew Charlie couldn't see it. "Was anyone else there?" he asked again. "A man maybe, before the creature showed up?"

" _A man? Yeah, there was a guy there, but what's that got to do with anything?"_

"Possibly everything. Can you describe the man?" Jack asked, pencil poised over his notepad.

" _Look, I don't know what you're trying to pull, but I don't have nothing else to say until I see you here in person, with my check in hand."_

"Fine. Just tell me where you are and I'll be on the next available flight."

" _Autlinburg, Utah. And don't forget my check,"_ Charlie added.

oooOOOooo

They trudged toward the setting sun, long shadows now playing over the snow as the glowing yellow disk retreated toward the horizon. They'd gone at least a mile and a half Jennifer estimated. She peered over the creature's shoulder periodically, ears straining to catch the sound of motors, worried that they were being followed. The beast was gentle enough with her, but she had no idea how it would react if they encountered those men again, and it would be easy enough to follow their trail through the soft powder. She had come to realize that David's worst fear was that he would really hurt someone when the creature was in control without meaning to. She vowed not to let that happen. "Any chance you can pick up the pace a little? It'll be dark soon and I want to be as far away from them as possible before we can't travel anymore."

Slogging through the deep snow was difficult, but the creature did manage to step with a little more alacrity. Jennifer found that worry dogged her like a half-starved fox in winter as the minutes wore on, her gaze alternating between looking west, hoping to catch a glimmer of sunlight glinting off a car windshield, indicating the road was near, and their surroundings, searching for a suitable place to camp for the night.

Suddenly the creature set her down, dropping to a seated position on the ground as well. It seemed the decision to stop had been made for her. As was the case yesterday, Jennifer found she couldn't look away as the beast's features faded, remolding themselves into the man she had come to think of as her friend. As the transformation continued, she fished the clothes she had gathered for David out of her pack, adding a pair of her knee-high socks. They'd be small on him she knew, but were better than nothing.

As before, he was confused, disoriented in the moments following the change. She held the clothes out to him. "Here, put these on before you catch your death," she instructed softly but firmly, pleased to see him do as he was told. She shook her head slightly, chuckling to herself. "Lord, help me, I'm starting to sound like my mom," she muttered under her breath, surprised at the depth of heartache that sentiment brought forth. Would she ever see her mother again?

"Excuse me?" David mumbled, puzzled eyes now on her as he stopped midway between slipping the sweatshirt over his head to join the tee shirt and plaid flannel shirt.

"Nothing," she replied, now offering him the boots and socks. He accepted gratefully, brushing the last remnants of snow from his feet. "Where are we?" he asked as he tightened the laces.

"My best guess is a mile and a half or so west of the cabin. You were 'indisposed,' so I had to improvise. You were right, that guy wasn't a cop; he just worked at the station." She powered past the pain the comment about the reward had evoked, continuing to fill him in on what had transpired. "Those guys took off north, so I opted for us to go west, toward Route 6. That way we can hopefully avoid them _and_ the police. I figured heading for that town was a bad call, for both of us. Besides," she added, "the road's only gotta be a few more miles from here."

"Well, we sure won't get there tonight. We'll be lucky if there's a half an hour of daylight left." His gaze settled on her, his eyes troubled, and she headed off the question she knew was coming.

"No, those guys were absolute jerks and all, but you didn't hurt them. Just threw them outside into the snow and they jumped on their snowmobiles and hightailed it outta there." She consciously omitted the part where she kept the creature from following them outside. After all, she reasoned, she really had no idea what the beast would have done to them; she just knew that at the moment she hadn't wanted to find out.

Her words put him at ease, the lines of worry creasing his brow softening. "How's the ankle?" he asked next, the doctor persona taking over as his concern for his alter ego's actions faded.

"You carried me all the way here," she informed him. "I didn't have to use the ankle at all, and it feels almost normal now."

"Let me be the judge of that," he admonished, reaching for the leg in question. She complied, offering up her foot without an argument. "The swelling is almost gone," he said once he had removed the bindings. "Can you wiggle it? That's almost full range of motion," he remarked as he sat back on his heels, watching her. "You should be able to walk on it tomorrow with assistance." He bound it back up and then climbed to his feet. "Trouble is we need to figure out how to make it through the night."

"I've got that covered," she stated with certainty, gesturing to the pack. "I brought the kerosene, matches and hatchet from the cabin. It's not gonna be the Ritz Carlton or anything, but we shouldn't freeze." She smiled triumphantly.

He grinned in response, pulling the jacket over his clothes. "Atta girl; you did well, not that I would have expected anything less."

He switched gears. "You stay put. I'll get some dead wood and you can get the fire started while I cut pine boughs. We can use them for insulation against the snow." He was back in a few minutes, carrying an armload of wood. With the kerosene to douse the logs, they didn't need tinder. Soon they had a warm blaze crackling away. Jennifer stretched out her hands, scooting as close to the glowing embers as she dared while David continued to collect wood and boughs. He finished just as the last rays of daylight disappeared below the horizon. It would be an uncomfortable night, of that there was no doubt, but they'd survive until morning.

oooOOOooo

He was in a rental car on I-15 headed south. Anticipation kept him awake and alert, despite the lateness of the hour. The first flight out of Chicago heading west was at 11:00PM, scheduled to be in Salt Lake City around 12:30AM. He'd managed to catnap for a few hours in the airport while waiting for departure. Takeoff had been delayed due to intermittent snow squalls, the flight finally landing around 1:00AM. He'd dozed on the plane as well and now was at least partially rested. He'd gotten a car and been on the road by 1:30AM. With any luck, he'd be in Autlinburg by dawn.

Absently he patted the breast pocket of his suit jacket, the third time he had done so in the last hour. The tranquilizer gun was still there, the four darts in a box on the passenger seat along with his carry-on bag. He refused to be caught off guard again, not like when he'd tried to take a sledgehammer to the creature at that rock quarry a few months back. Foolishly he'd left the pistol in his hotel room, and had seized the hammer in an effort to make do with the materials on hand, determined not to let the beast slip through his fingers yet again. Unfortunately, being able to use it effectively would have required a certain level of nearness which the creature hadn't permitted. It hadn't roughed him up or anything—maybe the part of it deep down inside that was John Doe had recognized him—but a threatening growl had told him the beast would not allow itself to be subdued, with the hammer or by any other means. Out of options—or simply because he'd been scared to death if he were brutally honest with himself—he'd dropped the makeshift weapon, and after a cursory grunt of satisfaction, his nemesis had fled the scene—again.

This time it would be different. This time he was prepared. He knew now the tranquilizer rifle he'd used on the beast when he'd cornered it in the _Register's_ print shop over a year ago was too large and bulky—not to mention the creature had destroyed it.

He needed something smaller—easier to transport and conceal—so he'd cashed in a favor. A reporter friend who worked for _National_ _Geographic_ had hooked him up with a large game expert—a real one this time, not a pseudo expert like the guy who had loaned him the rifle. The hunter had supplied him with the dart gun pistol that now rested snugly against his chest. The weight of the compact weapon provided him with a sense of security, filled him with the conviction that now so armed, he'd finally be able to apprehend the adversary that had been eluding him for close to three years.

He rubbed a hand across bleary eyes. Fortunately traffic was light, the weather was cooperating and he was making good time. Traveling all night would be worth it if the end result was the capture of John Doe, the man who morphed into the creature. Vindication—and possibly a Pulitzer—would finally be his.

oooOOOooo

He continued to stoke the fire, wide awake and alert, as Jennifer slept fitfully on a bed of pine boughs, snuggled close to the radiant heat source. He was glad she was able to get some rest for come first light he intended to be on the move again, particularly since their progress was likely to be considerably slower than before given Jennifer's issues with her ankle. He'd carry her if necessary, but couldn't do it as efficiently through the snow as his alter ego, by any stretch of the imagination. If they were pursued, especially by snow mobiles, he wanted to have a substantial head start.

The wind had died down considerably, which meant following their trail would be easy. His plan was to be on Route 6, hopefully in a car heading north, long before anyone giving chase discovered their whereabouts.

The full moon illuminated the surrounding terrain quite well thanks to the reflective property of the pristine snow pack. So far, he'd seen or heard no indication that they were being followed. Frankly he hadn't expected anyone to come after them in the dark, but he knew with unquestionable certainty that it was only a matter of time until McGee showed up, now that the creature had been spotted. That man was tenacious, if nothing else, and would surely do everything in his power to find them.

He smiled down at Jennifer. For one so young she had taken control as the situation dictated, and made all the right moves. She'd done exactly as he would have, her actions protecting them both. Hopefully McGee would focus his attention on Autlinburg and its immediate surroundings. Even with only a several hour head start, they should be able to elude the investigative reporter and slip into Wyoming unnoticed. Getting Jennifer home was proving to be much more difficult than he'd anticipated initially, but he was determined to make good on his promise to her. Perhaps recent events with his own family were coloring his judgment, but he understood intuitively her need to connect with those she loved, on any level.

His thoughts turned to more pressing threats. He'd heard wolves and coyotes howling in the distance, the fire their best chance of keeping them at bay. Truth be told, he was afraid to get some shuteye. Not only could that allow someone or something to sneak up on them unawares, but he couldn't afford to have a nightmare which might trigger another appearance by the creature. His young companion needed rest, and to be kept warm. He could only accomplish that by keeping silent vigil over her throughout the night. Problem was, if they were being followed, the light and plume of smoke from their campfire would act like a homing beacon. That, combined with the other reasons, meant it would be best for him to remain awake and watchful.

Moving closer to the small source of heat, he loaded on a few more logs before waving stiff fingers over the soothing warmth. Based on how far the moon had traveled, he estimated there were only a few more hours before dawn. Resolutely he wrapped his arms around himself and hunkered down to wait.

oooOOOooo

"Where could he be headed? Is there a town in that direction?"

They were now at the cabin. McGee contacted Charlie as soon as he'd arrived in Autlinburg, and the three men had driven the reporter to the creature's last known location via snowmobile. It had only taken a few minutes to discover the trail leading west.

"It's pretty much wilderness, until you reach Route 6, which is about three miles from here," Charlie offered, "with nothing but dense forest on the other side of it as well." He paused, swinging his gaze to the reporter. "If you want, we could go after it, follow the trail. Might still be able to catch it," he added, the reward not far from his mind.

McGee chose to ignore the comment, trying to puzzle things out. "How would the creature know that? Know to head in that direction?" Jack wondered aloud, "Just dumb luck?"

"Maybe the girl told it to go that way," Frank chimed in. A glare from Charlie made him realize his mistake.

"Girl? What girl?" Jack wanted to know. The three men simply looked at their feet. "What girl?" Jack reiterated. "Did you know her?" Again his question was met with silence. "Look fellas, you want the reward, right?" Three sets of eyes snapped to his. "Depending on who she is, it could help me determine where they might be going." The other two men looked to Charlie. "If I find the creature without your help, or someone else gives me the information I need, then they'd be entitled to the money. Your choice. Your funeral," Jack stated with finality.

Something shifted in Charlie, more to do with greed than doing the right thing McGee surmised. "The girl's a runaway. Jennifer Wilson is her name. I seen her 'pitcher' and bio at the police station." A thought occurred to him. "If you get the cops involved, we still get the money since we gave you the info, right?"

But McGee's mind was racing overtime, the reward the last thing he was thinking about. "How did she get mixed up with John Doe? Did he kidnap her I wonder?" he mused.

"The girl said he was helping her get home," Sam supplied. "Well, she did," he stated emphatically as Charlie motioned for him to be quiet. "We don't wanna lose that reward, right boys?"

"Who the hell is John Doe?" Charlie interjected, concerned that this new player would somehow get what was rightfully theirs.

"He's the man who becomes the creature," Jack explained, trying mightily to rein in his exasperation. "That's how he manages to move around the country without being detected, until the creature makes an appearance."

"You mean the guy we saw turns into _that_?" Frank observed, a look of total shock on his face.

"What did he look like?" Jack pressed. "Can you describe him?"

"No, we really didn't get a very good look at him," Charlie lied in an effort to stick to his original story. "Seemed average enough; brown hair, dark eyes, medium build."

"Did you happen to get his name?"

"No. The girl told us he was her dad. She never called him by name."

"Then tell me about the girl," Jack said, realizing the lead on John Doe was going nowhere. "Do you know where she was from?"

"Somewhere in Wyoming," Charlie informed him. "Gimme a minute…" He snapped his fingers. "Langeford. Yep, that was it."

"Then that's probably where they're headed," Jack deduced.

"You gonna call the cops?" Charlie asked suspiciously.

McGee wasn't certain if that had to do with the reward, or he was concerned for another reason altogether. His reporter's intuition told him he hadn't gotten the whole story of what really happened, what these men ultimately did to force an appearance by the creature, but he also knew if he pressed them for the truth, they were just as likely to clam up. Perhaps the girl was safer with the beast, and with John, than she would have been with these three. They were oily, all right, but unfortunately they had what Jack needed. He tried to balance his needs with those of Jennifer. "Did the girl appear to be in danger?"

"Nah. She sounded pretty sincere when she said this John Doe guy was helping her," Charlie informed him evenly.

"Then no police. This guy can be pretty cagey when he thinks someone's after him, and if the girl's well-being isn't in question, then I say let's back off. If she said he was taking her home then it's more than likely that's what he's doing. John seems to be a stand-up guy, and the creature's helped me out of more than one pickle," he conceded. "If it didn't hurt her yet, it probably won't. I'll go to Langeford, and if John doesn't suspect that anyone is after him, then I'll have a good chance of catching him there. As a matter-of-fact, it'll be the first time I've ever had the jump on him, known ahead of time where I could find him."

"But if you catch him, we still get the money, right, seeing as we're the ones who pointed you in the right direction?" Charlie said. There was no doubt the man knew how to beat a dead horse. Possibly it was his only skill.

"And you ain't gonna tell him about us, neither, right?" he continued. McGee shot him a curious look. "Well, if he gets away we sure as hell don't want him coming after _us_."

"Of course, of course," Jack responded distractedly. "I'd have no reason to mention you. But I have to make sure I get to Langeford before they do, otherwise he'll just drop her off and disappear into the ether again. I need to get to the nearest airport ASAP."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

He grasped her shoulder gently. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, time to wake up."

She rolled over, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "Why? Are you my Prince Charming come to take me to the ball?"

He grinned down at her. "Nothing even close to as glamorous as that, I'm afraid."

"Then lemme sleep. Five more minutes, okay?"

The grin turned regretful, apologetic. "Sorry kid, I wish I could but I can't. We can't take the chance that they might come after us; that they might be on our trail right now."

She pushed herself to a seated position. "I know. Sorry, I didn't mean to be difficult." She yawned, tucking her hair behind her ears and once again scrubbing at tired eyes with balled fists.

"Everything is packed and ready," he said as he swung the pack onto his shoulders and threw another handful of snow onto the remnants of their campfire. "I cut a walking stick for you," he announced as he presented her with the trunk of a sapling. "Now let's test your ankle. I'd prefer to keep the wraps on, for added support." He rose and reached a hand down to her, tugging her to her feet. She stood for a moment, the bulk of her weight divided between her good leg and the stick. Gradually she shifted more and more weight onto it, David watching for signs of weakness or discomfort with the practiced eye of a medical professional.

"It feels good," she announced, standing on it but using the stick for support as well. "Feels fine," she said, meeting relieved eyes. "I should be able to walk on it no problem if I use the 'crutch' to help me."

"Then let's get going. Hopefully we can be at the road in less than an hour." He shifted the pack to a more comfortable position. "Want to lean on me?" he asked as he offered her an arm.

"No. I really think we'll be able to go faster if I do it on my own." His look said he didn't quite believe her. "If I get tired, or it gets too sore I'll ask for help, honest."

That seemed to mollify him, at least for the moment. "Okay, if you're sure, but walk behind me. I'll make a trail, and it should be easier for you to walk in that."

"Gotcha. Lead on," she joked, gesturing west. Kicking a final layer of snow over the ashes of their fire, he set off at a slow, determined pace, Jennifer falling into step behind him.

oooOOOooo

The three men had taken him back to town where he set off for Provo, the city with the nearest commercial airport. He was currently on a puddle-jumper, headed for the Jackson Hole airport. He knew by consulting a map that Langeford was about an hour southeast of Jackson. Not wanting to delay his departure, he told Charlie—after having to slip the man a twenty—that he'd call when he landed to get the Wilsons' exact address. Charlie had assured him he could get it without arousing suspicion.

"Sir? Can I get you anything?" a comely flight attendant asked him, breaking his train of thought. He glanced up at the young blond, her hair cut in the feathered back "Farrah" style that was currently all the rage.

"No thanks," he said with a distracted smile, but as the woman turned to go he had a change of heart. "Miss?" The stewardess faced him once again, leaning into his seat. "You know what? A large, strong cup of black coffee would be wonderful."

"Certainly, sir," she said, grinning sweetly. "I'll be right back."

Alone with his thoughts again, they turned to the problem at hand. Had he made the right call? Should he have notified the police? He was still vacillating as to whether or not to tell Jennifer's parents when he got there—certainly not about John Doe's unique "problem," but about the fact that a man she had met was bringing her home. Unfortunately, armed with that bit of information he might not be able to dissuade them from getting the authorities involved, and that could be a bad move for him. He knew John was smart, and might have already put two and two together, figuring that McGee might be waiting for him in Langeford.

But was it truly worth it? Was putting a girl's safety at risk justified if it brought him the creature? What if the beast hurt her … or worse? Could he live with that on his conscience? He knew from personal experience that the creature had a gentle side, but he also knew it had killed two people. Could, or more importantly _should_ he take that chance with Jennifer Wilson's life? He still had the option to bring the local police on board once he landed…

"Here you go, sir." The flight attendant was back. She handed him a large, steaming Styrofoam cup.

"Thank you very much."

"You're very welcome, sir. Anything else I can get for you?"

"I'm on a tight timetable. Do you have any idea when we'll be arriving in Jackson Hole?"

"We're actually running a little ahead of schedule. The pilot said we have a good, strong tailwind. With any luck we'll be there within the hour. You on a business trip, sir?" she asked.

"Not exactly," he admitted, blowing on the cup and taking a small sip. He looked up at her with a neutral expression and a thin smile. "It's very good. Thank you again." She seemed to take the hint. "Enjoy the rest of your flight, sir." She wandered off, stopping to talk to another passenger a few rows down.

He was extremely tired, but the coffee was helping. Afraid that if he let himself doze off now it would only make his fatigue more pronounced when they landed, he opted to stay awake. He patted his breast pocket again. He intended for this to be over—today—if Fate was on his side.

oooOOOooo

It had been slow going but Jennifer had toughed it out, hobbling determinedly along in David's wake, and they'd made it to Route 6 in a little over an hour. Currently they were riding with a trucker who said he was headed to Wyoming, and they were welcome to stay with him until their paths diverged. Jennifer concocted a new cover story for them while they were traipsing through the woods en route to the road.

As before, they professed to be father and daughter, but this time the story was they were moving from southern Utah to Wyoming, and their car had broken down yesterday. They'd gotten it towed to a local service station, but repairs would take several days—time they simply didn't have. They had to get Jennifer settled in her new school, and since she was expected to begin classes tomorrow, a delay of any kind was unacceptable.

Low on cash—the tow had taken most of their money, which meant they couldn't afford to rent a car—they had decided to hitchhike to their new home and collect the vehicle, and whatever belongings were contained within, once they were settled.

The trip went slowly, the truck having to virtually drag itself up the many steep hills, but at least they were warm, and safe, away from anyone who might be following them and making progress toward their ultimate goal. Like he had two days ago (was that really how little time had passed?), David pretended to be asleep, head propped against the passenger-side window, while Jennifer, seated in between David and the driver in the truck's cab, chatted amiably with the man. David breathed a silent sigh of relief when Jennifer announced with enthusiasm they had crossed the border into Wyoming. Reaching Langeford unmolested now seemed to be within their grasp. Half an hour or so thereafter they parted ways with their short-term benefactor. The trucker dropped them in a small town as their route was now northeast, while his would continue to take him north and eventually west into Idaho.

Given that they had at least several more hours of traveling ahead of them, they used the last of David's cash (the few bills he always kept tucked in the front pocket of his pants) to stop at a local diner for a bite to eat. Their last meal—and a Spartan one at that—had been yesterday, shortly before the trio showed up at the cabin.

"What can we afford?" Jennifer asked, eyes roaming over the menu.

"I have ten dollars left, so we have eight and change to spend between the two of us, allowing for the tip."

They settled on cheeseburgers piled high with fixings and plates of all-you-could-eat French fries. Not the healthiest of options, but beggars couldn't be choosers. David watched with satisfaction as Jennifer plowed into her food. He knew she had to be famished, as was he, but she'd never once complained about the lack of food, or the cold, or even her ankle for that matter. They'd ditched the makeshift crutch once they made it to the road. She only had a slight limp now that they were on even, flat terrain, and no pain at all she'd assured him. That didn't sit well; he knew that she wouldn't be limping if there were no pain, but the trucker had picked them up shortly thereafter, rendering an argument on his side moot.

"So, what's our next move?" Jennifer asked around a mouthful of burger.

"Finish here, hit the road again, and hopefully we'll have you home before dark," he said, but she could see something else behind his eyes.

"You sure about that?"

"Why not? You want to get home, right?"

"Sure I do, but not at the risk of getting you caught," she admitted cryptically.

He took a bite of his sandwich, eyes never leaving hers as he chewed and swallowed. "What do you mean by that?"

"C'mon, David, I'm not a little kid. If I figured it out I'm sure you did as well, ages ago."

"Figured what out?"

"You're gonna make me spell it out for you? Okay, you're on," she said, setting down her burger and leaning her elbows on the table.

"Those guys knew who I was." He dropped his eyes and shifted in his seat and she knew she was on the right track, that he had already considered the scenario she was about to spell out. She leaned in closer and began whispering, lest anyone in the next booth over could hear her, or was listening.

oooOOOooo

He parked his rental car as close as he dared to the Wilson family home and settled in to wait. His conscience was still at war, the pros and cons of telling no one what he knew weighing heavily on him, but in the end he understood that despite some of the creature's questionable actions, John was a man of integrity; someone who would help a stranger—or his nemesis as he had demonstrated six months ago—if that person needed it, regardless of the potential personal cost.

When the small plane carrying the two of them had crashed earlier this year and McGee had broken his leg, John refused to abandon the reporter to his fate, lashing him to a wing that had broken off the wrecked aircraft and doggedly attempting to drag him out of the wilderness. During their almost week-long ordeal, McGee wholeheartedly believed John's initial assertion that he had amnesia, but in hindsight Jack was pretty sure John had known who he was by the end, and had helped him anyway. As a matter of fact, Jack had practically told John to leave him behind, given the man he now knew was the Hulk an out, a reason to walk away with a clear conscience. It would have been so easy for John to have taken McGee up on that, eliminating the major thorn in his side in the process, but thankfully he didn't. Without John's help Jack had no doubt he would have died.

But John had stuck it out with him, and as a matter-of-fact, it was John's alter ego that had ultimately put McGee in the hands of people who had helped him, rescued him. So, one point for the creature.

But then there was the matter of the deaths of Doctors David Banner and Elaina Marks. Banner's body had never been found, but Doctor Marks was discovered in the woods, not far from the Culver Institute. McGee himself had seen the creature carry her off after the building exploded in a huge fireball. The autopsy revealed that internal bleeding due to a crushing injury had ended the doctor's life, and Jack knew from experience of the creature's great strength. To his mind, the monster had clearly squeezed the life out of Elaina Marks, but as to why, he had no clue.

Motion drew his attention. Someone was leaving the Wilson house—Jennifer's father he surmised. The man climbed into a beat-up station wagon and drove off. No matter; Jack was only interested in seeing who accompanied Jennifer when she arrived home. To him, that was the only thing that was important.

He struggled to stay awake as the light began to fade, the many hours without sleep finally catching up with him. _I'll just close my eyes for a minute_ he reasoned, as eyelids heavy with fatigue refused to remain open another second.

The sound of a car door slamming jolted him out of his slumber. Jennifer's father was back, with a teenage girl in tow. _Is that Jennifer_ he wondered silently, _or just a sibling?_ The man tugged a backpack out of the rear of the car, clearly one not for books and one that had seen some recent wear and tear. The man and the girl embraced, and started off toward the Wilson home, the man's arm still wrapped protectively around the girl, the pack dangling from his free hand.

Jack jumped from his car and ran after the two. "Jennifer? Jennifer Wilson?" he called.

The two stopped, the man instinctively pushing the girl behind him as McGee approached. "Who the hell are you?" he asked suspiciously as Jack skidded to a halt in front of them.

"I'm Jack McGee, a reporter for _The National Register_ ," he informed them.

"So?" the man responded, clearly not impressed. To her credit, the girl's face remained neutral, unchanged. McGee was certain John had filled her in as to who he was.

"That your daughter?" Jack asked, casting his eyes to the station wagon. Was there anyone else inside?

"Yeah. What's it to you?"

"Jennifer?" he asked again.

"Look, what exactly do you want, Mr. McGee?" her father pressed, his tone indicating his displeasure at being detained.

"I told you, I'm a reporter, and our paper was notified that she was a runaway," he lied, "And I had it on good authority that someone was helping her get home."

"Well, she's home safe and sound now, so I don't see how it's any concern of yours anymore." Mr. Wilson's features hardened as he came to a realization. "If you knew she was on her way back, why didn't you tell us, or the police?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I only just got here," Jack responded, stretching the truth yet again.

"You know, I realize that much of Wyoming is what you city folks would consider 'the Boonies,' but we _do_ have telephones here, Mr. McGee," he retorted sarcastically. "You could have called. Our number was on the flyer we released to the police."

"I understand that," Jack supplied, trying to dig himself out of the hole he had created, "but I knew your daughter was a flight risk, as was the man she was traveling with. Bringing the authorities on board could have caused them both to disappear again. That's why I intended to talk to you first, in person. I see now that's no longer necessary." He turned to Jennifer. "You were traveling with someone else, right? Where is he now, and what can you tell me about him?"

Once again Mr. Wilson stepped in. "My daughter's been through a lot in the past three weeks, and I'll not have you upsetting her further. We're done here, Mr. McGee." He turned toward the house again, steering Jennifer along in front of him.

Jack continued to follow, desperate for information of any kind. "You know there's a $10,000 reward out for the man she was with, right, or did she forget to tell you that?"

Mr. Wilson stopped again and turned to face McGee, his hands now balling into fists at his side. "I don't care if it's a million dollar reward. That man brought our daughter home to us. That's the only thing that's important to me. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have some celebrating to do." Once again he looped an arm around Jennifer's shoulders as the two climbed the stairs to the porch, leaving a confused and frustrated McGee in the street. "So you don't deny that she was with someone?" Jack shouted after them as they disappeared through the front door, deigning to ignore him.

The reporter turned and walked to his car, kicking the tire angrily before climbing in and slamming both hands against the steering wheel in exasperation. What was it about John Doe that made people who barely knew him protect him at all costs, the promise of a sizeable chunk of cash notwithstanding? "This isn't the end, John," he muttered under his breath. "I'll catch you if it's the last thing I do."


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Jennifer snuggled down into her covers. She hadn't even begun to imagine how good it would be to see the people she loved again, or to be safe and secure in her own room, her own bed. Her entire family had welcomed her with open arms, the petty grievances of the past all but forgotten. Where she had expected there to be only anger and reprimands she had been met with words of love, joy and understanding.

David had told her it was likely there would be anger, perhaps not initially but in the days following her return, but at its root was love. That in time the anger would pass, but the love would remain.

She knew this was only a temporary fix, but now felt better equipped to deal with problems that would arise in the future. Never again would she allow insignificant, petty things to come between her and those people who were the most important to her, and together they would deal with the troublesome issues as they arose. She would face them head on, instead of turning tail and running.

She had found her voice, and her center, but she couldn't stop her thoughts from traveling to the man who had become such an integral part of her life over the past four days. She was back home where she belonged, but now he was out there all alone, dealing with a terrible secret, on the run from a man who did his best to make what was already a difficult existence that much harder. With tears in her eyes she remembered their last few hours together:

They had made it to a neighboring town and were just waiting for Jennifer's father to come and get her. They had both come to the conclusion that it might be entirely possible that McGee was waiting for David in Langeford, and that he had notified the police who would pick up her traveling companion the minute the two set foot in town.

At the diner she had urged David to leave, insisting that she could do the last leg of the journey by herself and that she didn't want David to be captured on her account. As expected, he had refused on the premise that he had promised to see her safely home. If he left now, he would never know if she made it, and if something were to happen to her in the interim, he'd never forgive himself.

Putting their heads together they had concocted a plan to go to a nearby town and have Jennifer call her father to come and get her. That way, David could see her safely returned to her parents without putting himself at risk. Jennifer had explained everything to her father on the phone, conveniently omitting the part about the creature, and insisted he come alone, that he didn't involve the authorities, and that he made sure no one was following him.

As they were waiting for Mr. Wilson to arrive, they had talked one last time:

" _You know, you'll make a fine author someday," he told her._

" _I certainly hope so. It's been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember." She glanced at him, eyes lit by a fiery passion, as well as gratitude. "It helps to have people who believe in you, though."_

 _He favored her with a look of fatherly pride. It rippled through her in ways she didn't quite understand. "As does believing in yourself. That also goes a long way to making dreams come true."_

" _Touché," she admitted. She swallowed nervously, not sure how he would react to her next revelation. "I've already got an idea for a story, in the vein of_ Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde _."_

" _Oh, so you're familiar with the work, then?" he asked casually, but she could see an undercurrent of sorrow, of resignation pass over his features, as if he expected his life to forever be defined in that manner._

" _No, I haven't read it yet—I only know what I've seen in the movies—but I intend to." She looked at him solemnly. "But regardless of what happened in the original, my creature will be a gentle, misunderstood soul. And it_ will _have a happy ending," she promised. She reached out and grasped his hand, a smile of determination fluttering about her lips._

 _He dipped his head and closed his eyes briefly. "I'm sure it will be a best seller someday. Save me an autographed copy, all right?" he said with a wistful smile of his own._

 _She laughed at that. "Only if you promise to write and let me know where you are. And how things are," she added adamantly._

" _I'll at least promise to write," he assured her, but there was an aura of sadness about him, almost as if he didn't believe in happy endings._

 _She opened her mouth to respond, intent only on finding a way to lift the melancholy that had settled about him like an ill-fitting cloak, but her expression changed to one of pure joy as something caught her eye. "There he is!" Jennifer exclaimed, jumping to her feet and racing for her family's ancient station wagon. As they had agreed earlier, David hung back in case McGee or the police had tagged along, too._

 _She flung herself into her dad's arms. He hugged her close, lifting her bodily off the ground and twirling her round and round, showering the top of her head and forehead with kisses._

 _When he finally set her down she'd taken his hand in hers, and the two had engaged in a serious, meaningful conversation. After a few minutes she began leading him to David. "Daddy, there's someone I want you to meet," she said as they approached._

 _Mr. Wilson thrust out his hand. "I can't thank you enough for what you've done Mr. Bailey. We've been worried sick for the last three weeks."_

 _David grasped the proffered hand warmly. "You're very welcome. Your daughter is an amazing, smart and talented young lady. Once we met and I heard her story, nothing was going to stop me from helping her get back to you."_

" _At considerable risk to yourself, she told me." David's eyes traveled to Jennifer, shocked that she had apparently broken his trust, explained his "condition" to her father. She shook her head slightly, just as her dad continued. "She didn't go into detail, and I didn't press her to. I don't care what the authorities think you've done. Jennifer trusts you, and that's good enough for me."_

 _David's features relaxed, the lines on his forehead and around his eyes smoothing out as he exhaled, the sound one of pure relief. "I'm just glad things worked in our favor, and that she's back where she belongs. Unfortunately, this is goodbye. It's time for me to move on." He hugged Jennifer briefly. "You be good to yourself, and don't forget to believe in yourself," he instructed softly before releasing her and turning to go._

" _Please, there must be something I can do. You've given me everything and I've done nothing in return," her father argued, a hand on David's forearm. "There is the matter of the $1,000 reward."  
_

" _That's not why I did it," David confessed honestly. "I remember what it was like to be at odds with my family when I was her age. I wish someone had intervened on my behalf."_

" _Be that as it may, she told me you spent your last dime getting her something to eat. It's gonna be really hard for you to move on without some funds." He reached for his wallet._

" _No, please, I couldn't," David stammered, remembering the dire financial straits the Wilson family was in, his gesture indicating he would not accept._

" _Please, take it," Mr. Wilson insisted, holding out two twenty dollar bills. "I was telling my daughter I got a raise while she was gone, a supervisory position with my employer that pays much better than my old one did. I'd planned to bring you home with us, have the wife fix you a nice meal and give you a place to stay for as long as you needed, but Jennifer told me that wasn't possible. It's not much," he said, thrusting the bills at David once again, "but at least it should buy you a warm place to sleep tonight, and a good meal."_

" _Please," Jennifer added. "It's the least we can do, considering all you've done for me." She threw herself into his arms again, her cheeks moist. "I'll miss you, you know?" she said, her voice breaking as her father stuffed the money into the pocket of David's coat._

" _Same here," he replied, his voice none-too-steady either._

" _And don't forget the advice you gave me," she whispered against his chest. "It doesn't just apply to me." When finally he held her at arm's length, she saw satisfaction and joy in his eyes, but the melancholy swooped back in to nip at their heels, chasing them away. He kissed the top of her head, released her, and with a final shake to Mr. Wilson's hand and a soft "thank you," he turned and walked off. The father and daughter watched him go, arm in arm, until he disappeared from view._

As of yet, she hadn't told her family everything. Maybe that would change over the next few weeks, maybe it wouldn't. The important thing was that she was home, where she belonged. Brushing a tear from her cheek, not sure if it was one of sadness or joy, she rolled over, hugged her pillow and closed her eyes. Tomorrow would mark the beginning of the rest of her life.


End file.
